


Above the Lights

by calicodreaming



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-06 13:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5419340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calicodreaming/pseuds/calicodreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas in Paris, on the ground, is beautiful. Imagine viewing it from the rooftops after nightfall, with the freedom being a pair of teenage superheroes can give you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Christmas, in the city of lights: a fairy tale, a wonderland. Her citizens had decked out well over one hundred streets in strands and swaths of fairy lights, blue and white and green and red. Avenues and trees alike, even the iconic tower. The weather had even consented to cooperate, giving Paris a light blanket of powdery snow and a temperature low enough to let it linger. 

Of course, nothing ever stays perfect. In the daytime the sunlight managed to melt some of the snow, and as it slid away again the melted snow became ice which slicked the streets and walkways and made them beautifully treacherous. That same ice glittered, pretty to look at, but accidents increased as the evening drew on and the dark fell soft around the twinkling beauty of the city.

Two figures swung and leapt across the rooftops along the backdrop of those lights, exhilarating in their youth, their strength, their ability. With no akuma to fight in the last week, simple serendipity had drawn the two young heroes of Paris out together to enjoy the city in its night-cloaked splendor, and if the ice made their acrobatics a little more difficult, well, they needed _some_ kind of challenge, didn't they?

With the ice and snow, one of them was bound to slip, but as a pair they worked well together; it became nearly a game, to see how quickly they could catch each other. And lacking the urgent need to protect Paris from an emotionally unbalanced attacker, they were able to push different boundaries, focus on different things. Enjoy themselves. Eventually their transformations would still wear off, but they had significantly longer to appreciate their time.

During a pause to rest on a rooftop above the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, they sat simply admiring the lights along the broad thoroughfare, reserving speech as they caught their respective breath. Ladybug sat truly perched, her legs crossed and dangling over the ledge they'd chosen to stop at. Her fingers curled delicately along the edge, and she leaned forward, as though preparing to leap away. It had begun to snow again, lightly, and a few snowflakes had caught in her hair, remaining there in perfect, intricate shape as she gazed out over the famous avenue.

Chat Noir, lying along the ledge with lazy grace, took his fill of the view which his partner presented. The lights reflected prettily in her eyes, and he thought as he looked up at her that the little smile on her lips would never leave his mind. He'd seen the lights-- had modeled among them only a few hours before-- but Ladybug's appreciation of the scene made them magical. Not for the first time he wondered who she was without her kwami's masking, whether he knew her, whether they could have wandered this avenue without ever knowing the other was so near. The thought so distracted him he didn't immediately notice when Ladybug's clear blue eyes shifted their gaze to focus on him, but her soft laught drew his attention easily enough.

"Something on my face, kitty?" The teasing lilt in Ladybug's voice, easily as familiar as the way she moved in a fight or the tilt of her head when she hit upon a way to use her luck, drew an answering grin to Chat's face.

"Just the snow, my lady. Aren't you cold?" His own suit, in addition to guarding against most blows he might receive when they were fighting super-powered akuma, had mysteriously acquired some sort of warm lining as the winter months had drawn in. He knew enough about fabrics at this point to recognize one designed to remain warm in sweat and damp, but he had no idea if Ladybug's suit worked the same way. Probably, but the only way to know would be to ask or get inside her suit...which brought on all kinds of ideas he quickly beat out of his head as utterly ungentlemanly.

"Not in the least. But if you're suffering, kitty cat, perhaps it is time to start moving again." His spotted heroine reached over and lightly tapped Chat's nose; he violently resisted the urge to try and catch the tip of her finger in his teeth, just to see what she'd do. "I wouldn't want you to freeze to the ledge. Prying you off would be a nightmare." Chat watched Ladybug's eyes sparkle and grinned at her, unable now to resist the suggestive tilt to his lips.

"You'd purrobably have to peel me out of the suit, and then we'd _really_ have a predicament," he quipped, earning a glare from his lady. To defy the notion he finally sat up, scooting closer with a little lift.

"Don't joke about such things. You'd never be able to show your face in public again." Even so, Ladybug had brought a hand up to hide her mouth as she giggled at the thought, and Chat Noir continued to grin as warmth wholly unrelated to weather or exertion spread through his chest.

"Nah, it wouldn't matter that much. I mean, half the city probably expects it of me at this point." He wasn't going to specify _which_ half, and by the brief roll of Ladybug's eyes, Chat knew she'd caught on quite well to that vague little inclination. Unfortunately, her nose and cheeks were already pink from the cold and their preceding run across the rooftops, so he wasn't sure whether he'd incited a blush or not.

"I doubt it, even for you." The banter dropped away as Ladybug looked out again over the street, her gaze sweeping along the haloed trees up toward the Ferris wheel set up at one end of the avenue. Chat noticed, in a state of half-distraction, that snowflakes had landed on Ladybug's eyelashes, and he sincerely considered reaching up to brush them away, but something fragile had grown up between them, and at the last moment he shied away from breaking it. Instead he looked out over the lane as well, not so much taking in the lights as giving himself a little break from the way his heart had begun to pound.

"I've...I've been thinking." At least his voice hadn't cracked. He felt Ladybug shift, saw her turn her head a little toward him in the periphery of his vision, but he didn't dare look at her now. "I was wondering what to get you for Christmas. Even as long as it's been, I'm not sure I really know what your tastes are."

He caught a small sound from Ladybug's direction, a little intake of breath, a tiny 'oh' without any further explanation. Silence fell with the snow, hushing the city, and a thrill of anxiety began to twist in Chat's stomach. Courage failed him; he didn't dare look at Ladybug now.

"I...I'm not sure that's a good idea," she finally replied, and Chat knew Ladybug had moderated her voice to gentleness to soften the let-down. "It would give away our identities. Oh, maybe not right away," she continued, speaking over the protestation which had parted Chat's lips with an indignant negative, "but someone would be sure to ask, or maybe we _would_ see it as our...mundane selves, and then what would be the point of the mask?" She spoke softly and haltingly, as though thinking as she spoke, and Chat had a sudden, violent urge to fling his ring far away from him. It wouldn't be very kind to Plagg, but he was so _tired_ of this conversation. They'd had it so many times-- the secret identity conversation-- that it wasn't worth trying to argue.

"As...as my lady wishes," he ground out, unable to stem the bitterness which liberally coated the words. Unable to sit still any longer, he stood and walked along the ledge, completely unafraid of the several-stories drop below him. Behind him, he heard Ladybug get up, and he could imagine the graceful swing of her legs: no ungainly scrambling, no wild flailing. She could be clumsy at times, but he knew the signs, and tonight she was all easy confidence and grace.

"Chat, please. It isn't that I... I don't want to..." For all the grace he imagined for her, Ladybug's voice seemed to have failed her, but the genuine contrition Chat could hear failed to salve the hurt her continued denial had inflicted. He waved her off, good mood spoiled. She continued to follow him, without the protests, for a few moments, but as he drew out his baton to vault to the next roof she laid a soft hand on his arm. "Wait. Please."

Ordinarily, he would have done as his Ladybug bid without a single compunction, but tonight his skin crawled at the contact even as it warmed. He straightened his shoulders from their dejected slump and pulled away, pulling a little of his father's cold authority into his voice so that he wouldn't have to look into Ladybug's blue eyes and lose his nerve again.

"We've been out long enough. I'm heading home." Closing salutations flitted through his mind. _See you tomorrow. See you next time. See you...whenever._ "See you for the next akuma attack." He broke into a sprint and leaped the gap between buildings, landing without a single hitch, and this time he didn't hear Ladybug follow. Part of him-- most of him, truthfully-- wished she'd followed; the rest was glad to be lonely above the festive lights. He'd lied a little bit, though; he had no intention of returning to the spacious, empty manor, where his unhappiness would only etch his heart further. Whether Ladybug suspected or not Chat didn't know, as she did not rejoin him along his meandering route above the city's streets. It gave him space, though, and for a little while he simply lost himself to the exercise.

He wound up in the park where the first commemorative statue of his and Ladybug's efforts had been placed, looking up at it and wondering just what it was that Ladybug wanted to avoid. She usually explained her reticence with something vague: 'it's easier this way', or 'isn't it safer?', but it been over a _year_. They were a well-known duo now, clearly attached in some fashion, enough that their partnership-- their _relationship_ , whatever it was-- presented a threat of its own. Somewhere along the line one of the akuma villains would cotton on and decide to use the time-old ploy of using one against the other. It had happened on occasion, usually by accident. How much more danger could they be in if they knew each other's mundane lives?

In fact, Chat thought they might be safer knowing. He'd certainly had his share of incidents when he'd been unable to go transform because Ladybug had been too close to him when he was Adrien only. Ladybug's mundane self might be some regular person without her unmasked face plastered all over Paris, but Adrien would be instantly recognizable. Assuming, of course, that Ladybug paid attention to those kinds of things. She'd never once remarked on the similarities between Chat and Adrien. But it would only take once, and so he'd had to watch Ladybug fight alone more than once until he could figure out a way to escape and activate his Miraculous.

He could only imagine Ladybug had been in similar situations as well. He'd pieced together, from his own observations, that Ladybug most likely attended his school; certain incidents had been isolated to the location, and he doubted she'd have been able to appear so promptly to confront Hawkmoth's versions of Adrien's classmates if Ladybug herself didn't attend the school. It meant they'd been in close proximity on a number of occasions without realizing it, and likely kept one or the other from putting on the spots or claws.

What would happen if he accidentally kept Ladybug from assuming her mask, and she were injured because of it? He'd have no way of reversing the akuma transformation, or undoing the harm the akuma villains usually spread without reserve. He gave only _bad luck_ , after all. Ladybug fixed things. Ladybug could beat the baddies without Chat Noir, he thought bitterly, but Chat Noir could only ever be a stop-gap measure.

Someone walked past him. Chat immediately froze, surprised anyone would be out this late. He turned, tilting his head, and caught sight of the person's face just as she seemed to realize she, too, was no longer alone.

One of his classmates. Marinette. She sat behind him, and was the class president. He remembered her speeches fondly. But why would she be out so late, in the dark and cold...?

"Chat Noir," she ventured, staring at him with wide blue eyes. "What are you... I thought... Th-there's not, ah, some crazy villain around, is there?" She laughed, a high-pitched nervous chitter which had Chat immediately rushing to reassure her.

"No, no. Nothing like that. I was just out for a stroll." Despite his own melancholy, Chat felt a little of his bravado returning, and a smirk draped itself across his mouth. "As for you, purrincess, why are you out and about so late? Even around Christmas, the streets are not that safe." He leaned a little closer, arms crossed, and tilted his head expectantly.

"I... I just... It's none of your business." She crossed her own arms-- an effect somewhat softened by the puffy winter coat she wore and the mittens on her hands-- and smiled. "I live just across the street. It's not as though I've gone far." She shifted her head to indicate a building on the far corner, a pretty bakery, and Chat recalled vaguely that he'd seen Marinette walking this direction from school after class on multiple occasions.

"I suppose that's fair. How are you proposing to get back in, if the doors are locked?" It was his turn to sound arch, though. The lights were off and the shutters down; unless there was another entrance to the bakery, or the apartment he assumed was above it, Marinette was locked out.

She'd apparently realized the same thing. Snowflakes collected on her lashes as her eyes widened, and Chat had to suppress a chuckle at the flustered, dark look Marinette directed his way. "I was going to climb the fire escape, same as I did to get out. Obviously."

"So you snuck out? Ooh la-la, princess. So furry risque of you." He grinned widely and leaned down toward her, unable to keep himself from laughing softly at the twist of Marinette's pretty pink lips as she scowled at him.

"I needed air. The roof wasn't cutting it. Are you going to let me go home now, or are you going to keep me out here to catch my death of cold?" She challenged him one moment, pretended to swoon the next. Chat reached out by impulse to catch her, although he let go as soon as Marinette straightened. The action had brought him steps closer to her, so that they stood with only a few inches between them.

His heart began to race. _Why?_ Marinette was cute, true, but she had always been so stiff around him; Adrien hadn't always been able to parse what her nearly grimacing smiles and often incomprehensible stammering meant, except that perhaps she was a little star-struck around someone with a career in the public. They rarely interacted outside of school except in passing, or in groups with other students. Truth be told, the only reason Chat knew where Marinette lived at all-- in the back of his mind, anyway, because he hadn't thought about it tonight-- was because Ladybug had sent him the address once, when Marinette had been a target.

Whatever the reason, he still had a pounding heart, and Chat caught himself studying the shape of a snowflake caught in Marinette's eyelashes. He stepped away and rubbed his neck, laughing with a little self-mockery in his voice to ease the moment a little. "Sorry."

She smiled and rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm going in. It's cold, and _I_ don't have superpowers and super-leather to keep me warm. See you around Paris, silly cat." She waved a little as she turned, and for a moment Chat nearly let her go before his chivalrous side reminded him he couldn't just let her climb all those stairs in the dark and cold alone.

"Wait!" He jogged a little to catch up and slipped on a bit of black ice as he tried to stop himself next to her. Marinette, at least, looked amused that she had to help Chat catch himself before falling, and she had one eyebrow up as she looked at him.

"Yes?"

"May I help you back to the roof? There might be ice on the stairs. I promise I'll get you up there safely." He winked and grinned as he straightened, clawed hands finding his hips. For a few moments Marinette simply looked up at him, perhaps considering the offer, but then she nodded, and Chat's grin widened considerably.

"I guess that makes sense. The lighting isn't the best on the way up. You can probably see better than I would." Her shoulders lifted in a little shrug, a strangely familiar gesture that might have pulled down the corners of Chat's mouth a little if his toothy grin wasn't threatening to split his face. Marinette eyed him with something very like suspicion, but as she began to protest-- "D-don't get any...!"-- Chat unclipped his baton from the small of his back and twirled it. His fingers found the button to extend the baton by habit, extending it to his own height in a blink. If he posed a little when it settled firmly on the street by his foot, well, what was a cat without a little swagger? The feel of the grin had changed; he was smirking now, he knew, and it didn't matter one bit, despite the distinctly unamused look on _Marinette's_ face as Chat Noir extended an inviting hand to her. "I don't see why we need to take the stairs at all."

That Marinette rolled her eyes surprised Chat. Was she always like this: confident, teasing, wry? And whatever her reservations she accepted his hand and stepped closer, her own pink lips curving into an intriguing little smirk of her own.

"Don't need my help this time to figure out how to use your own tools, I see."

"Ha ha, very funny. I'm dying of laughter. Hold on to me." Now Chat's turn to roll his eyes; he slid an arm around Marinette's waist and tucked her close, trying to ignore how...normal it felt. Like they'd done it often enough their bodies adjusted without conscious thought. Marinette settled neatly on his leg as the baton extended, and her balance never wobbled as they rose straight into the air, past the third story of the corner bakery. She leaned forward with the perfect amount of weight with him to tip the pole, landed lightly on the pretty roof as though she'd done this a thousand times.

Who was this Marinette? In class she'd slowly started speaking more clearly around him, smiling a little more normally, and Adrien had admired her fashion designs on the few occasions he'd been given the opportunity. Yet something always seemed to hold her back. _That_ Marinette and _this_ Marinette behaved like entirely different people.

"I'm not inviting you in, if that's why you're staring." The acerbic statement rudely shoved Chat back into the reality of the cold night they stood in. He noticed with some dismay that Marinette had started shivering, and with nothing to offer her, he really only had the option to let her go in and leave him alone out here in the dark.

"N-no. I just..." Chat scrambled to recover his cool. The toothy, crooked grin appeared by reflex as he settled his weight to one leg, appraising the girl for a moment. "I was just wondering what makes you so comfortable around me. Must be my animal magnetism." There. Another eye-roll, another sweet and self-assured smile. Before Marinette could contradict him, Chat swept her a deep bow, one hand on his now cane-length baton, the other held out to his side in a grandiose gesture. "But I should let you leave me, princess. It's pawsitively rude to keep you out in the cold."

"...you're terrible." Whatever the words themselves, they contained a bubble of laughter which grew warmer as Marinette stepped closer. A frisson of panic swept through Chat-- for no reason he could discern-- but he hadn't a chance to move away before a delicate finger slid under his chin, forcing him to look up with gentle pressure. His eyes met Marinette's, eliciting another dizzying sense of déjà vu, and thought skittered away at the softness, the sparkling warmth he found there. "Good night, kitty." She tapped his nose as she straightened and walked away, toward a hatch he hadn't noticed until Marinette reached down for it.

He recovered his senses as she started to drop through the door, barely, just enough for a response. "G-good night, princess."

That smile flashed at him one more time before the door closed, shutting him out in the snow. For a moment, a single instant, Chat considered pulling the hatch back open and following Marinette into the warmth he could easily imagine waited in the room below. He shook his head to clear it of the distinctly ungentlemanly impulse and leapt up to the chimney, starting his own trek home.

He'd have much preferred lingering a little longer on Marinette's roof, prompting those smiles, listening to her tease him. How much he wanted it spurred him faster; he didn't want to think about how suddenly his interest had sprouted. How it stood in conflict with Ladybug. How much more attainable Marinette was than...

It wasn't fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! My first foray into fanfiction for Miraculous Ladybug (although not my first fanfic by a long shot...). There will be more, I promise, but I'm not intending this to be very long. Maybe a few chapters at most?


	2. Chapter 2

"Marinette. _Marinette._ Class is  _over_. Come on, girl, let's go."

Marinette jerked awake and slid her gaze listlessly to settle on Alya, lost in the groggy wonderland of an interrupted nap. The wry amusement normally inhabiting Alya's expression had completely fled, leaving only creased brows and a curious frown, as though she didn't know quite what to make of Marinette's lethargy. Looking up at her, Marinette dimly remembered being poked awake once or twice during the film they'd been allowed to sit through for the class, and with growing embarrassment realized she'd been drooling on the desk. Wiping it up with her sweater didn't much help, as it only left a damp spot on her sleeve, and judging by the snickering coming her way from across the room, Chloe had already noticed. At least Adrien had already left, and with any luck Marinette hadn't been snoring in his ear the entire time.

 "All right, okay, I'm good. I'm coming." If the words sounded a little out-of-sorts, Marinette had her own reasons; her face was already burning just  _thinking_ about being caught drooling and snoring by her crush, and she didn't want to think about what her hair probably looked like right at this moment. Alya's lips twisted a little but she continued to wait, arms crossed, while Marinette gathered her things in sluggish jerks, as though the wooden feeling in her arms reflected truth instead of stunned neurons. 

"You going to tell me what's up with you? We didn't even have any tests today, Marinette. I know you weren't up studying or doing homework." The tone brooked no evasions, and knowing she wouldn't succeed even if she tried, Marinette simply shrugged her bag over her shoulder and headed for the door. It wasn't as though she could tell Alya the truth, and this time of year, that really burned. Marinette sometimes thought she'd choke on the lies she had to tell her friend, trying to keep her double life a secret from the most avid Ladybug reporter in the city, and with her brain so fogged from a relatively sleepless night, she didn't have any good excuses prepared.

Ever the stubborn one, Alya jogged to catch up with her frown edging toward a scowl and her eyes gaining a dangerous glint behind her glasses. "Ignoring me isn't an answer, Marinette. I understand that movie was horrible, but you sit in the second row. Our professeur noticed. Are you okay?" With a couple of longer steps she made it in front of Marinette and stopped, forcing Marinette to do the same or run the risk of barreling into her friend.

"I...didn't sleep well." She accompanied the evasive words with a sigh, stalling for time while she tried to come up with something to satisfy Alya. "You know. Something gets into your head when you're trying to sleep and you just can't shake it." True enough, in its own way; she'd been unable to sleep with her mind dwelling stubbornly on Chat Noir and his stupid sad face. Telling him they probably shouldn't do Christmas presents had been like kicking a particularly loyal puppy in the mouth and then watching it slink away instead of growling.

"Anything in particular?" Now Alya's escalating frustration had melted back into concern, and Marinette felt a little of the tension in her neck and shoulders untwist. Not much, but enough she could shrug and shake her head.

"Nah. Christmas presents, mostly." Her mouth felt bitter. Truth and lies all mixed together until she couldn't tell them apart herself, and if that kept her safe, it did it at a price; Ladybug stood up for truth and justice and couldn't even tell her friend she'd been up most of the night thinking about a boy. A boy who wasn't even her crush.

"Still stuck on what to make for Adrien?"

"...yeah. Scarf's kind of been done and if I make him a hat or mittens to match, he might catch on that I made the scarf, and then I'd ruin the scarf for him, and I just don't  _know_." In truth Adrien probably wouldn't notice if she didn't give him anything, considering he didn't even know his scarf that he now wore-- due to the season-- just about every day had come from Marinette's own hands. 

"I've been thinking about that. Let's go get something warm, I'll tell you about it on the way." Alya had a smile on her face now, and the distraction made it easier for Marinette to hide her relief that she'd successfully redirected Alya yet again. They walked in relative silence to the school café before settling in a quiet corner to watch new snow fall, hidden from the wind in the inner courtyard of the school. Marinette waited until they'd both had a chance to sip at their drinks a little before she spoke.

"So. Ideas?" Maybe she _could_ give Chat a gift. It would have to be small-- something easy to miss-- and then she'd have to  _sternly_ tell herself not to look for it. They both knew they went to the same school by now; Marinette suspected they shared a class. She refused to let herself speculate further than that. Her own life was already too tangled to let that secret come out, even between them. 

"I was thinking something small this time."

Alya's suggestion jangled unpleasantly against Marinette's train of thought. She turned in confusion to look at her friend, gloved fingers still wrapped around the warmth the paper cup offered, and tried to process what Alya had said versus her  _own_ line of thought. "What?"

"For Adrien. Something small? You can give it to him in class before the end of the week. Gloves actually wouldn't be bad...you wouldn't have to make them match. Black is a good color for gloves, and you could put in some kind of thermal lining. That would be nice, right?" 

"I...I don't know. He already has nice gloves. And black isn't his color." Marinette wrinkled her nose. To be honest he'd look good in just about anything, but gloves were tricky and hands were finicky. Without Adrien's hands to fit the gloves to they would probably be uncomfortable at best and unwearable at worst. She wanted to take pride in her work, and handing Adrien Agreste anything so indifferently made would be an embarrassment. 

"I hate to break it to you, but he wears a black shirt pretty much all the time." One of Alya's hands obscured her mouth, probably hiding a smile, and Marinette chuckled tiredly.

"You're right. I just... I like him in color. Is that weird? Am I weird?" She bit her lip and smiled, giggling a little until she caught herself dwelling on a pair of clawed gloves. Chat had been so  _gentle_ the night before, carrying her to the roof. They'd only met in such a context-- civilian Marinette to hero Chat Noir-- on a spare handful of occasions, almost always in crisis. And although his claws didn't generally cut unless he'd activated his Cataclysm ability, Chat had been careful with them around Marinette. Not as though he thought her fragile, or weak, but because he knew his own limits. A gentleman.

"A little bit. Right now because you're spacing out  _again_ on me, girl, and I'm trying to help you. Wake up in there." Fingers snapped right by Marinette's nose and she twitched, guiltily meeting Alya's wryly amused gaze.

"Sorry. I, um, I got to thinking about his hands and now..." Now she actually  _was_ thinking about Adrien's hands and a blush rose in Marinette's cheeks, a flush of heat in the cold which had nothing to do with her now tepid drink. Alya's knowing laughter didn't help.

"You're hopeless. Hey, how about something like a necklace or a wristband? It'd have to be cool, but I bet he'd wear it if you made it."

Now it was Marinette's turn to abruptly scowl. "I do fashion, Alya. Fabric. Metalsmithing and...and rocks and...whatever aren't my thing." 

"That makes it better! You'll learn something new! Besides, it can't be any worse than making some of the decorations for the hats and clothes you've designed. Same principle, right?"

"I..." This time, Marinette actually caught an idea. She started to smile. "I could... I think I have something. Thanks!" She dug immediately into her bag for her sketchbook, wondering if she had anything sketched out already-- an embellishment for a shirt would do-- and tried to ignore Alya's satisfied laughing.

"You're not even going to tell me?"

"I'm not even exactly sure what it is yet. Just a...a concept." It didn't help her with her dilemma over Chat Noir, but making something for Adrien might help her think. Later. When it was done. She'd be too focused on finishing the piece for Adrien first, in any case, but maybe by then Tikki could help her sort out how to give Chat Noir something which would satisfy her own concerns while removing the hurt and distance she knew she'd created.

On the way home she passed in front of a stall selling men's jewelry almost exclusively and stopped, backtracking to look. 'Jewelry' was probably a strong term, considering few of the items had anything sparkly or ostentatious about them, but the pieces gave her ideas. Leather she knew, leather she could work with. Pieces of metal and charms she could pick up, although good ones would probably cost her. Still, her idea began to take shape, and Marinette smiled. Ordinarily she'd have gone to the plaza overlooking the Eiffel Tower to sketch out her plans, but with the cold and the snow that was almost entirely out of the question.

A snippet of conversation caught her attention. She peeked into the shop to listen, feeling her stomach sink a little. A news report had come in; a villain had been spotted in the first arondissement, tearing through the shopping district and shrieking with high-pitched rage. Earning a few odd looks for her involuntary groan, Marinette ducked back out of the shop and went looking for a safe place to put on the spots. As tired as she was, and as close as she was to coming up with something for Adrien, the last thing she really wanted to do was go fight some high-strung shopper on akuma steroids, but duty, as they said, called.

Tikki didn't say anything about how lackluster Marinette's 'spots on!' sounded, nor did she offer any commentary on whether or not Ladybug was slightly less quick or graceful than usual as she swung away from her route home.

"Don't you think you and Chat Noir's kwami could come up with a  _better_ way to detect akuma than having us wait until people are already getting hurt?" Ladybug grumbled as she ran along the narrow peak of an older building, hoping more than knowing the ice had melted away from it. Her luck held true, however, and although Tikki didn't answer-- communicating while she was active in the earrings was always difficult even at the best of times-- her yo-yo beeped. Checking it on the run, Ladybug noted Chat Noir's position on the map which had popped up on the display, as well as an area filled with a spotted red overlay. The disaster area, presumably, and already the villain had taken themself out of the advertised area toward another shopping district.

When she finally caught up to the akuma's victim, she found a depressingly holiday-themed villain, a Père Fouettard with a few extra super-villain additions. Sooty cheeks under his black mask and frightening pointed teeth; a torn red coat and cloak trimmed in black fur, and a black basket on his back with seemingly endless capacity for anyone he deemed a 'naughty child'. He apparently didn't discriminate for age-- insofar as Marinette watched him toss a screeching Chloe into his basket-- and she had to swallow the urge to just  _leave_ the bratty girl to her fate. But...no, that wouldn't be Ladybug, that would be Marinette, and Chat Noir had already commented on her strangely at-odds attitude concerning the mayor's daughter.

Chat Noir hadn't arrived yet. 'Father Whipper' didn't care in the slightest, and based on his mumbling Ladybug knew Hawkmoth had likely convinced him that Ladybug needed to be punished this year. She suppressed a groan at the depressing predictability of these fights and rubbed her temple before springing off an awning to try and gain some altitude on the terrible festive villain.

The trouble was, he actually had a whip, which he used to just as much devastating effect as Ladybug used her yo-yo. Immediately the slender, punishing thread flicked out and wrapped around her ankle. Father Whipper pulled hard on it, putting his whole substantial weight into the action, and Ladybug tumbled from the air as though a frosty breeze had clipped her wings. Landing  _hurt_ as she tumbled across the icy cobblestones, and although she had a more durable constitution as Ladybug, her head swam a little from the fall. The lights strung through the shops danced uncomfortably in front of her eyes.  _Too slow. Too slow!_ The whip snaked around her middle, dragging her back. It had pinned one of her arms to her side; her yo-yo had fallen out of reach. Ladybug vainly scrabbled at the unforgiving stone, trying to get away, to protect herself from this villain, but he laughed as he dragged her closer. 

"Time to give me your Miraculous, Ladybug, or it's into the basket with you!" The worst part about this villain, Ladybug thought as she kicked and squirmed and grappled for  _anything_ to keep her out of Father Whipper's grip, was that he sounded so jovial, so like Father Christmas but for the angry rasp in his voice. He sounded so truly as though he were Father Christmas, caught in a moment of unhappiness and twisted to Hawkmoth's dark designs. And that jocular voice was getting closer as Father Whipper dragged Ladybug hand-over-hand toward him, laughing with great guffaws.

Ladybug  _just_ heard the spinning whistle of a familiar silver baton before it cracked into Father Whipper's hands, causing him to drop the whip and stumble back several steps with an agonized cry. Moments later a pair of black boots landed right in front of Ladybug, a belt tail swinging behind them, and her blond partner dropped into view on one knee. Concern touched the standard smirk on his face, and he had gentleness laced through his confident voice as he offered Ladybug a clawed hand.

"Need a paw, my lady?" 

Just this once she could forgive the pun. Ladybug gratefully accepted the hand and let Chat Noir drag her to her feet. He'd even swept up her yo-yo, which he handed back to her with that same soft grin. It did funny things to her heart, and she had to firmly tell herself it was because she was tired and off-kilter and hadn't eaten properly. That was all. Chat waited until Ladybug had assumed her usual confident stance, and even then he made no move to attack without a nod from his lady.

The fight went quickly after that. Turned out the akuma was in Father Whipper's gloves, oddly unchanged and clean, which took a little improvising to destroy enough to draw out the butterfly. They were finely-made, with good seams; simply ripping them hadn't been an option. Nevertheless Ladybug soon had them on the ground, the black-and-purple bug safely in her yo-yo until it fluttered away, cleansed. Then it was time to throw the spotted Santa hat in the air and let Tikki do the rest of the work, leaving a white-bearded man kneeling in the snow in genuine confusion.

All of Ladybug's bruises seemed to throb at once and she swayed a little before she caught herself, widening her stance and shaking her head. She was far from home, too far to allow her exhaustion any expression right now. Unfortunately Chat Noir had caught her little stumble as well, and from the set of his lips Ladybug could see he wasn't going to let her go by herself. Instead he grabbed her wrist and pulled her away before the reporters could descend, maneuvering with the particular deftness he'd always shown when neither of them wanted to stick around for an interview.

He pulled her down into a vacated metro station and gently shoved her along. "Keep going. I'll go distract them while you let your transformation go, and if you wait down here for a few minutes before going up nobody will notice. I've done it a few times. I promise I won't look." His crooked grin had a touch of sadness, but Ladybug knew he'd keep his word. He always had. She gave him a smile and, on impulse, a little peck on the cheek before she hurried away, darting into a bathroom just before the light slid down from the crown of her head and Tikki spun out, exhausted, to land in Marinette's waiting palms.

The poor kwami looked really done in this time, and judging by how much  _better_ Marinette felt now, she judged that Tikki had probably taken on the worst of the hurts and bruises they'd sustained as Ladybug. Tears pricked her eyes at the thought and she leaned against the door, shivering a little, letting Tikki just rest for a moment as they both caught their breath.

"I forget how good he is sometimes," she murmured finally, pulling the spirit close to lend Tikki a little warmth. "He's gotta be risking being caught himself."

"His kwami will take care of him," Tikki mumbled tiredly, rubbing her head. "Plagg hates the extra work it takes to keep Chat Noir safe when people know his identity. It's really a pain."

Marinette blinked in surprise. "People have found out before?"

"Of course. It's hard keeping up a secret identity, and sometimes you just end up in a situation you can't avoid it. It's happened to Ladybug, too. Sometimes we move on when that happens, but we don't like doing it." The red kwami frowned, her antennae drooping. "We always feel like we abandoned them, even when they tell us to do it."

"They...we...can tell you to move on?" Marinette had wondered, occasionally, how the Ladybug legacy passed along, but in truth she'd never let herself think on it too much, and Tikki was generally pretty reticent on the subject. Perhaps it brought up bad memories for her. After all, Ladybug was lucky, but luck alone didn't always win the day.

"Sometimes. It really disrupts things, though. We've only done it a handful of times." Tikki yawned and curled up in Marinette's cupped palms, blinking slowly with obvious exhaustion. "It's really cold out here, Marinette."

A gentle, subtle reminder that Tikki was best hidden away and needed rest and refreshment. Marinette bit her lip and tucked her kwami into a pocket of her coat, knowing Tikki would be warmer there than in her little purse. As she emerged across the street, she looked around; true to his word, Chat Noir had engaged the gaggle of reporters for a few moments, keeping the curious ones from passing him on the steps down to the station. He glanced at his hand as Marinette watched and waved to everyone as he sprang away, laughing in the snow as it began to fall again. Smiling at his antics, Marinette tucked her chin into her coat and started walking home.

On the way she stepped into a few shops, glancing over the wares, lips pursed as her idea for Adrien's gift returned and took shape. Ordinarily she'd have liked to sketch the whole thing out first, get a better grasp on it before she began, but it was almost fun doing the shopping first. More and more ideas sprang to mind as her gaze wandered over different kinds of leather and cords, various stones and wires, threads and cloth and fastenings. What did Adrien like? With the scarf Marinette had tended toward plain, soft, functional. Casual, chic, easy enough to take on or off. He'd genuinely seemed to like it, but had that only been because he believed his father had gifted it to him?

He couldn't wear anything too obtrusive, Marinette knew; it would draw too much attention, and he was likely to lose it if he had to take it off repeatedly for shoots, if he even wore it at all. Therefore she had to make something simple and stylish, something that wouldn't look out of place on his person. Something without a particular brand or obvious trademark, since it would throw off the advertisement, and if he was seen wearing particular brands it would make a statement he probably wanted to avoid. Just thinking about it all made Marinette's head ache, and she remembered why she'd gone with a simple handmade scarf instead of just buying something for him. That, and she liked gifting from her own hands.

Eventually she got home, a few bags and packages under her arms. Shopping for her parents and Alya had been easier; a pretty hair clip for her mother, a funny apron for her father, and a slim ladybug-spotted wallet for Alya. Marinette had also collected a few odds-and-ends to work with for Adrien's gift, and her mind still refused to stop turning over ideas as she waved to her parents and proceeded upstairs to her room. Once there she took Tikki out of her pocket and gave the grateful kwami some sweets she kept stashed in her room for that purpose and then sat down with her sketchbook, tracing out design after design as ideas whirled through her thoughts.

Eventually the tiny kwami floated over to have a look, and as she peeked over Marinette's shoulder at a particularly outlandish design she giggled. "That would probably look cool, but it's a little too big for Adrien, don't you think?"

Marinette groaned and rubbed her eyes. "Yeah. I don't know what to  _do_. What's right for him? Styles right now are a little weird, and it's hard to tell what next year is going to be like. I don't want to embarrass him, that'd be  _awful_. He'd wear it and someone would say it looks  _terrible_ and his father would learn it's from me and think I'm a terrible designer and Adrien will hate me and--"

The catastrophizing tirade cut off abruptly as something tapped at Marinette's window. It sounded too deliberate to be random settling of the house, too hard to be rain or ice. Marinette looked around, finding nothing at her windows overlooking the park and the street. As the tapping came again she happened to look up and realized it was coming from her trap-door. Immediately her brow furrowed as a confused frown twisted her lip. Who would be up  _there?_

"Tikki, hide," she murmured quietly as she stood up. There weren't many options. Perhaps someone else had seen her turn into Ladybug or Marinette and Hawkmoth had managed to catch them in a moment of weakness. Maybe Hawkmoth himself had found her. But, most likely...

"Chat Noir?" Marinette looked around cautiously as she climbed up through the little door, and sure enough the leather-clad hero stood lounging against the railing which surrounded the tiny patio. For once he looked a little uncomfortable, a little too posed, and Marinette had to hide a smile. "Just a minute. Let me grab my coat."

She returned a minute or two later with her pink coat on, unzipped in her haste to return to the uncertain-looking Chat Noir. He'd moved away from the point to one of the sides of the patio and crouched uneasily, looking for all the world like a kitty unsure of its reception as it came back to the door of someone who'd been kind to it. Marinette had to hide a smile as she hoisted herself up onto the patio and shut the door to keep the warmth inside. She shivered and tucked her hands under her arms, tilting her head a little at Chat.

"I saw something on the news about another attack today," she mused aloud, watching him. "Don't you usually vanish after something like that?"

Chat Noir shrugged as he stood up. "I can stick around or come back as long as I give...give myself a little time to rest," he hedged, and Marinette raised a brow at his little slip. 

"And then you decided to come here?" Did he suspect her after all? Had something last night, or today, let something slip?

"I..." Chat Noir looked down and mumbled something. The lack of confidence sat so totally at odds to his usual character that Marinette blinked and took a few steps closer, tilting his head up so they could meet eye-to-eye again.

"You seem different. Is something wrong?" Maybe she was being forward, too comfortable with someone she wasn't supposed to know. But the lost expression on Chat's face begged to be answered, and since she couldn't be Ladybug, he'd have to settle for Marinette.

"I wanted to check on you. To make sure you were okay. It was pretty cold last night." A whole sentence without a pun, and ample opportunities. Marinette's concern rose several notches.

"It's not like I got wet or anything, and I wasn't out that long. What about you? Aren't you going to catch cold, being out like this?"

This time Chat Noir shrugged, his bell jingling, and spread his hands. "My suit keeps me warm enough. You, however..." Now he stepped closer, drawing himself into what was perhaps too close a proximity to Marinette, but she didn't pull away. "You're really going to get a cold if you don't zip up. If I may...?" 

He waited for Marinette's nod to zip her coat for her, drawing the pull nearly to her chin before he was satisfied. "There. Nice and cozy. Are your hands okay?"

Marinette nodded again, eyes wide and stunned. "What..."

"I wanted to say thank you," Chat Noir said suddenly, not looking up as he stepped back to a polite distance again. "Thank you for...letting me help you last night. It might seem stupid..." He laughed, a nervous note giving the sound a strange jangle, and scratched at his neck. "I just...it's hard to explain. It was nice being allowed to...help?"

Something jumped in Marinette's chest, soft and sharp and painful and warm all at once. She swallowed thickly and put on a smile, laughing a little herself, trying to lighten the mood somewhat.

"You help people all the time!"

"Well, yeah, but..." Were his ears really  _drooping_? Poor kitty. Something was really bothering him, and Marinette thought perhaps she knew what. Even though the fight with Father Whipper had gone significantly better after Chat Noir had arrived, neither one of them had been at the top of their game, both distracted, both tired, both just  _off_.

"But nothing. That statue out there--" Marinette stabbed a finger toward the park where she'd met Chat Noir the night before, "--says quite enough, don't you think? The city wanted to thank you for all your help. You're a  _hero_."

"Not like Ladybug." Chat swallowed visibly, his bell bobbing a little, and crouched again, misery crawling over his face. "I'm just...just an accessory. She's the lucky charm, the..."

"Stop." Anger burned Marinette's throat. How dare he let himself think for one  _second_ he wasn't necessary? "Just today, you helped Ladybug out of a tight spot." She crouched to meet him, feeling the indignation press her lips and her eyes to narrower shapes. "She really wasn't doing too hot before you showed up, and she probably would have been caught out without you."

When Chat Noir looked at her this time, he had surprise on his face. Marinette met his gaze and continued. "It's not the first time. You guys are a  _team_ , saving Paris together. She couldn't do it without you, Chat, anybody can see that. Don't be such a silly kitty."

Without thinking too much about it she reached up to cup his face and run her thumb gently over his cheek. It looked like he needed it; the blond closed his eyes and leaned into the touch with a soft hum, almost a purr. When her skin began to burn and her cheeks warm Marinette drew away, feeling unsettled, but from the look of dazed confusion on Chat's face she wasn't the only one. He gazed up at her with an unreadable mixture of emotion twisting his handsome features, and after a few moments he stood up.

They stood in awkward silence until Marinette cleared her throat. "Your skin's pretty cold. Shouldn't...shouldn't you go home?" She bit her tongue against inviting him in, because that would  _not_ be a good idea. If she kept telling herself that, she might even believe it.

The way his shoulders slumped very nearly made her recant that mantra. Clearly something about home did the opposite of what it should, and although Ladybug had noticed that from time to time, Marinette tried not to linger on it too much. It always led to the forbidden trains of thought: who Chat Noir was, what home was like,  _why_ mention of family and parents always made him flinch. It hurt her to see him like that.

"C-come back and see me," she stammered suddenly before biting her lip against the stupid remark, but it was too late to take it back. The look on Chat Noir's face was too fragile to break with a denial. "B-before Christmas, o-or after, or w-whenever you need reminding that you're important too."

Oh god. What a stupid thing to say. She flushed brilliantly, wondering where her usual bravado with him had gone. At least it had put a smile back on his face, right alongside the most precious look of surprise.

"...yeah." He hesitated, eyes wide, and then suddenly leaned close. One hand cupped Marinette's cheek, the claws on his gloves tracing delicately along her cheekbone and temple. Too startled to move away, Marinette instead froze in place as Chat Noir brushed a soft, soft kiss on her other cheek before he pulled away with a lopsided, rueful smile.

"Thanks again, Marinette. I'll see you around." And away he went, twisting away with a cat's grace. No laughter this time, but something had eased in the way he moved. Marinette smiled slowly and touched her cheek, wondering why the odd twisting in her stomach suddenly felt strangely  _good_. 

By the time she went inside, darkness had well and truly fallen, and the timed lights twisted around her railing had come on. She sat below them on her bed, sketching ideas for what she'd decided would be a leather bracelet, but when she finally curled up beneath her quilt and let her eyes drift closed, it was Chat Noir's green eyes and gentle touch she fell asleep remembering.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I'd meant for this to be done by Christmas. Clearly that didn't happen. My apologies; working in retail apparently robbed my creative ability. I'm thinking one more chapter to this, which I'll try to finish up sooner rather than later, and then it's on to the next idea?
> 
> Oh! And as for Pere Fouettard/Father Whipper...I had originally planned on a Krampus-themed villain, but wanted to look into something a little more French? Forgive me if it seems a little off, though.


End file.
